I was thinking about the importance of community on my vacation this summer. I was back in Connecticut with my wife visiting our son who lives there. I wanted to visit my former community in Amherst Massachusetts – but where would I find it? I mean, I could drive around my neighborhood and see if any of my former neighbors were about, I suppose. But it was likely I would find no one out. I couldn’t very well visit my former place of employment, the mental health center where I worked for almost 20 years. Sure, the institution was still there, but everyone I knew there either retired, was laid off, or otherwise moved on. The place where I would find my community, in fact, was obvious from the start. I would go to my former synagogue, where I had been a member for the years before I decided to study to be a rabbi. I would go on a Shabbas morning. And, sure enough, there were 30 people there that morning who I had known for much of my adult life, who had celebrated with me, comforted me, argued with me, sang with me, laughed with me and got angry with me. And, now they were so happy to see me, and to hear about our new life in the mid-west. The writer Mitch Albom, who became famous with the publication of his book Tuesdays with Morrie, recently published another book, Have a Little Faith. In it, he returns to the Jewish community of his childhood in New Jersey. In writing about the community of his childhood, he begins to come to terms with all he had left behind and lost. His plans as a young man – to become ‘a citizen of the world’ — had largely come true, he writes. He had friends in different time zones. He’d been published in foreign languages. He had lived all over the world. But, he writes, “You can touch everything and be connected to nothing. I knew airports better than local neighborhoods. I knew more names in other area codes than I did on my block.” Most of his relationships, he writes, were through the workplace. Then he thought about workplace friends who were fired, or had quit due to illness. “Who comforted them?” he wonders, “Where did they go? Not to me. Not to their former bosses.” Often, he concludes, they were helped and supported by their church or synagogue communities. “Members took up collections. They cooked meals. They gave money to pay bills. They did it with love empathy and knowledge that it was part of the supportive undercarriage of a “sacred community”, like the one I guess I once belonged to, even if I didn’t realize it.” We too often don’t realize what we have in our sacred community. We take it for granted, or are disappointed in its shortcomings. But where would you come if you moved from Naperville and wanted to visit your community? I hope the answer would be “Congregation Beth Shalom.”
Good Shabbas.
Parasha Shoftim: Community
Parasha Shoftim: Community
This week’s parasha is Shoftim. In it, the Israelites are commanded as to what kind of institutions they will need to set up when they leave their life of desert wandering to settle in communities in the Land of Canaan. These institutions include courts, police, armed forces and a political system with which to govern themselves. Where-ever we Jews have wandered, and then settled, we have followed this pattern of building institutions that will nurture and support communal life. Without those institutions there would be no community. Without Congregation Beth Shalom, Jews who lived here would be merely a collection of individuals scattered over a wide geographic area who happened to be Jewish. With the beginning of our synagogue, the Jewish Community was created.
